


No Easy Day

by KeightCopper



Series: Mayhem Achieved [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV), S.W.A.T. (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Creepy!Therapist, Dubious Consent, Gen, SEAL!Buck, SEAL!Hondo, Semi-explicit scene with the therapist, Stalker!Therapist, Trigger Warnings, for sexual exploitation by a therapist, not too graphic but sex is more than implied.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeightCopper/pseuds/KeightCopper
Summary: The thing was Buck admittedly played up the golden retriever slash playboy routine so well that most people don’t even bother looking past all of that bluster. Luckily he has people on his corner looking out for him.Or: Buck and Bobby had a ‘share your feelings’ talk in the locker room, Buck felt a little better and agreed to go see a therapist only for that therapist to exploit him. Hopefully, a talk with Hondo would fix Buck right up.Note: Runs parallel with 9-1-1 ep1x02 but set in AoMM universe where Buck is a SEAL and Hondo (SWAT) was too.READ TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS; Also read the character sheet for this serieshereor some details in this fic won't make much sense.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Daniel "Hondo" Harrelson
Series: Mayhem Achieved [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702840
Comments: 15
Kudos: 264





	No Easy Day

**Author's Note:**

> Runs parallel with 9-1-1 ep1x02 but set in AoMM universe where Buck was a SEAL and Hondo (SWAT) was too. Note in SWAT canon Hondo is a Marine, not a SEAL.
> 
> Background for Hondo if you don't watch SWAT: Hondo is played by the lovely Shemar Moore. He the team leader of the 20-Squad of the LAPD SWAT. In canon, he was a marine and has been with LAPD for over twenty years, and in SWAT for 15 of those years. Here in this fic, he hasn't been in SWAT that long only for about two years at the start of this fic. He was the team leader of Charlie Team (Buck's SEAL team) with about twenty years of experience as a SEAL. Hondo was recruited by Hicks to join LAPD SWAT as a team leader, 20-David, for pretty much the same reason why he was promoted in canon to appease the black community after a SWAT officer-involved shooting of an innocent black kid. 
> 
> Um apologizing for making the therapist, Dr. Welles worse than her canon character. So trigger warning for rape/non-con. Also reversed some of the dialogue between them to make Dr. Welles creepier, cause I can.
> 
> Also I'm not an expert at sniper shooting, that meant I pulled all sniper related stuff out of my ass. Sorry, not sorry.

Buck is having a rough week. Actually, if he was being honest withhimself, he was having a rough few months. Ever since coming back from that last mission in Syria almost a year ago, he's been feeling off. Becoming a firefighter and joining the 118, helped him adjust to life after the SEALs, but somedays are just hard. You'd think years of jumping out of planes, would erase all lingering fear of falling at a great height but Buck just froze at a scene today, when Bobby asked him to climb the ladder and rescue the poor window washer hanging by the cables. He couldn't even begin to explain why. As soon as they are back at the station, he hid by the locker room. 

“Don't. All right? I know I let you down.” Buck said as soon as Bobby entered the room. It looked like to Buck that Bobby wanted to talk feelings and Buck freezing up on a call, so he figured he’d get ahead of the captain and share something personal maybe it would distract the older man. 

“About a year or so ago, I was deployed to um— well actually I can’t tell you where. Let's just say some hot hellhole. I was deployed there for... actually I can’t tell you why exactlyeither… but the Navy sent us there for a mission.”

“I didn't know you were in the Navy.”

“I didn’t disclose it. I figured there’s no use, I wasn’t in the regular Navy anyway," Buck explained, closing his locker before dropping his ass on the bench in front of him. "I figured since my military jacket is classified beyond super-secret hush-hush.It really wouldn’t matter in this job, plus I don’t need HR or anyone in the department asking me questions that I cannot answer.”

“I still don’t get it, what do you mean by regular Navy? And why would your jacket be classified?" Bobby asked as he moved to sit beside Buck on the bench. "You told me you were traveling before, you said you spent a year in South America?”

“It was a summer, not a year. And I was traveling I didn't lie about that, only maybe I was doing that while sometimes shooting people too. I mean, I was a Special Warfare Operator,” Buck answered, but at Booby's continued look of confusion, he expounded, “We're more commonly known as SEALs. We are still Navy but we are separate from the fleet, the regular Navy. I know that probably don’t make much sense but it’s hard to explain to a civilian.”

“Okay, I'll take your word for it.” Bobby nodded.

“I was a part of a Tier One SEAL Team, we call it Charlie. I loved being part of that, it’s like every tough guy’s dream job, being a badass and kicking down doors. I thought I'd be a pipe hitter for the rest of my life.”

“So why didn't you stick with it? Why did you leave?”

“Joining the SEALs was an act of rebellion." Buck grinned at Bobby as he tells his story, "I was eighteen and my parents found out that I got into Penn. I got into Caltech and Standford too, which was my first and second choice. I told them I'm gonna go to Caltech."

"You wanted to get as far away from home, I get it."

"Yeah, home wasn't that bad but my parents have high expectations and they wanted a kid who graduated in an Ivy League University so they could brag about it to their friends. They told me point blank that they wouldn't pay a single cent for me to go to college unless it's at Penn. So I figured, well if that's how they want it, I'd give them a kid who didn't go to college at all, so I enlisted. Somehow I got into the SEAL training program."

Bobby just stared at him with a look he can't even begin to comprehend. He looked away as he continued his story.

"Anyways I served my eight-year contract. I processed out the Navy but before I got here my CO sent me to two more missions. Another SEAL team lost one of their members and they need back up until they get a new one so I was essentially TAD'd. The last was that mission in Sy— er some hot hellhole. I went to without Charlie, my original team. It was a clusterfuck because um actually I—“

“Let me guess, you can’t tell me why.”

“Yeah, it’s classified. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I may not be military but even I could understand the importance of operational security so I get it.” Bobby said as he laid a comforting hand on Buck’s shoulder, “I know you can’t tell me the details but you can tell me how you felt.”

“Going to a mission without my own team, without Charlie was not the same. I felt like a machine. The only way I was able to get through it was to flip a switch in my head, turn off every natural, human instinctive emotion in my body. Soon after I realized, I cannot do that again. I don't, I don't want to do that.” Buck admitted. “It’s why I love this job because I get to be the tough guy but I also get to help people. But now? I wonder why I’m even bothering with this at all.”

“Being human, connecting with our emotions is what makes us hurt when we lose someone we’re trying to save, but it is also what makes one a better firefighter." Bobby advised, "Better doesn’t always mean being the tough guy hero. Sometimes better means recognizing that you can’t save everyone, Buck.”

Buck remained silent, which Bobby took as an opportunity to share his own personal story.

“I still remember the first one I lost. Katherine Vance. 1991, she was 32 years old, with blonde hair, green eyes, wearing a blue University of Michigan T-shirt, white shorts, and she had on black Converse High Tops. She had painted smiley faces on the toes. The last thing she said to me was, _Please_ , and then she was gone. Hit by a drunk driver... I couldn't extract her in time. She’s not the only one I lost, just the first. There are countless others that I couldn’t save, it’s the nature of this life we chose.” Bobby looked to him and asked, “what was that famous SEAL saying, the only easy day was yesterday?”

“Yup and yesterday was no easy day.”

“Exactly, but you still keep going and complete the mission right?”

“Uh, huh. Easier said than done.”

“I heard a saying once;Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” Bobby quoted. He let the words settle between them for a moment before daring to speak again. “I’m glad you realized that you are no machine. That you couldn’t switch your emotions off. Because that is what eventually led you to us. Here's the name and number of a trauma counselor." Bobby took a card out of his breast pocket and hand it to him. "We have people in the department who help us deal with this kind of stuff. You don't have to talk to me, but you do have to talk to someone.”

"Uh, Bobby," Buck called to the older man and asked, "Can we keep the SEAL thing between us? I mean I'll tell the team eventually, but I just got out and I'm still trying to deal with it."

"Sure thing Buck. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks, Bobby."

***

Buck settled into the couch, eyes roaming around the therapist's office noting everything from the modern piece of art to the diplomas displayed above the therapist's desk. Nothing escaped his scrutiny, except for the lady sitting directly in front of him. She was patiently watching him scan the room as he tries to avoid direct eye contact with her.

“You seem uncomfortable.” The pretty brunette, one Autumn Welles, Doctor of Psychiatry, according to the diploma on the wall, noted.

“Yeah, I am a little," Buck admitted, taking a second to look at her before averting his eyes yet again and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Well, that's not unusual. You've been through a trauma," the lady surmised. "That's why you're here, to deal with those feelings."

“Uh, yeah, I'm, uh, I'm not really into feelings." Buck leaned back as if to put up an air of nonchalance, "I mean, feeling 'em, yeah, just not, you know talking about them."

“I treat a lot of first responders. People who run toward danger." Dr. Welles professed. Trying to get Buck to open up, she pressed, "But maybe there's something you're running from as well? What is it about discussing your feelings that scares you?”

“I’m not scared,” Buck denied. He took a deep breath before admitting, “Look, I'm only here 'cause my captain ordered me to.”

"Yes." The doctor nodded as briefly glanced at her notes. "Captain Nash had inquired me to assess for your fitness for duty. A mental health clearance so to say. I understand you froze up at a scene the other day."

"Yeah. Okay, I... I hesitated." 

"You lost somebody. That's hard."

"Yeah, but we lose people." Buck huffed, "At least that's what everyone keeps telling me." 

"Was this your first time?"

"No," Buck answered wistfully, thinking of the countless funerals that he'd attended over the past. Not that he could tell her that and even if he could he wouldn't want to so instead he explained it away, "I mean, I've had calls where it was too late, but, uh, but I've only been doing this not even six months. Now, I just can't shake the feeling that this one didn't need to go down the way that it did."

"So do you think there was something you could have done differently?"

"Nothing, he just wouldn't take my hand."

"Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he was too paralyzed with fear, or confused or... who knows?" the petite therapist stood up moving closer to her client. She sat by the ottoman in front of the couch Buck was sitting at, leaning closer to put a what would seem like a comforting hand against her client's inner thigh. "Look, I can't help you get inside his head, Mr. Buckley. We're here to talk about what's inside yours."

"It's, um..." Buck paused momentarily distracted by the hand creeping up his thighs, "It's actually just Buck."

"Okay," she said her hand moving even higher and definitely to close to his junk. 

"Um... can I ask you something?"

"Of course,"

"Did you friend me on Facebook?"

"I saw you on the news, um, before this was scheduled." She whispered seductively to his ear, "You should delete that."

“Yeah, I thought you looked familiar,” Buck said as Dr. Welles continued to look him straight in the eye.Her gaze was so intent, so penetrating. Buck wanted to look away but he’s finding it hard to. “Dr. Wells I—”

“Shh… It’s okay.” She said leaning closer, placing a soft kiss against his neck as she reached for the button of his jeans. The rest was a blur in Buck's memory, as he let her pull his jeans down and ride him to completion.

"I can't believe I just did that," Buck said, hanging his head in shame.

"Sorry? Why?" Dr. Welles asked while she helped him button his shirt, grinning up at him, "You were fantastic."

"That was beyond unprofessional," Buck shook his head backing away from her as he zipped up his pants. "You're my therapist."

"Yeah, and I made you feel better, didn't I?"

"I need to go." Buck hurried to the door.

"Wait, Mr. Buckley, aren't you forgetting something?" Buck turned back, noticing her leaning on her desk, seemingly filling up a form. At his look of confusion, she explained, "Your psych clearance."

"Mr. Buckley, I did you a favor by signing this, so I hope you'd do me one back and forget this happen." 

"Yeah, whatever," Buck said, quickly picking up the paper as hurried out the door.

"Good, and I know I don't need to tell you not to tell anyone about it either or else, it's both our job on the line." Dr. Welles smirked at him, as he walked away. 

***

“So pretty boy, what’s eating you all up?” Hondo asked as soon as they settled into the sniper nest, half a mile out from the nearest target.

“What?!” Buck asked as he sets up his gun, a Stoner Rifle-25 beside Hondo, who is sitting in a fold-out chair, holding a binocular. 

“What you don't think I won't find it strange? You inviting me on the rifle range to shoot metal targets half a mile away when you swore off guns? Which I still don’t get, you are the most natural sniper I’ve ever seen in my career.”

“One, I'm not aiming for the ones a half-mile away that's too easy, I'm aiming for the ones about two thousand yards away," Buck said crouching down and laying on his stomach, noting the wind direction, trying to decide how to line up his shot. "And second, I didn’t swear off guns, I just don’t get the point of owning one when I’m basically a civilian.“ 

“What about exercising your second amendment rights? Freedom to bear arms and all.” Hondo said bringing up the binoculars in his eyes moving to the targets Buck said his aiming at.

“I don’t need a gun as a firefighter, which is why I like being one.” Buck declared as he estimated the wind speed, mentally calculating how that would affect the drag and traction of the bullet,“Plus the bill of rights was written more than two centuries ago by a man who’s clearly going through a phase, maybe his wife left him for a soldier that set camp in his house, only reason 2nd amendment is about owning a gun and 3rd is about the army not having the right to commandeer homes."

"It might be McGarrett that you and Mischief are calling Dad, but I'm the one that practically raised you both." Hondo chided, "I know when you bullshitting me with your white people comedy."

“Okay, so I might have slept with like 50 different people for the past month alone,” Buck said as he pulled the trigger, three consecutive times, aiming at three targets all at once, hoping the sound of gunfire would drown his voice out.

“What?!” Hondo exclamation was punctuated by loud bangs as the bullets hit their intended targets.

“I know it’s bad, and I’m not usually that slutty but lately I can’t help my self. Last week I almost got fired, no I actually got fired cause I couldn’t keep it in my pants. I got my job back before the shift ended only because one of my teammates, Hen vouched for me and sent me to help this police officer, Sgt. Grant." Buck talked fast as he always did when he felt guilty. "It’s actually surprising that the sergeant put in a good word for me with my captain.”

“Why?”

“Why what?!”

“Why is it surprising that Sgt. Grant put in a good word for you?”

“Because I got into an argument earlier with her. I was wrong, I realized, but you know how emotional I get. I mean a baby is dying and I wouldn’t let her mother go with us in the bus, I was thinking that would just take the attention of the paramedics away from the baby and we were about fifteen minutes out from the nearest hospital. But Athena she said we don’t get to choose who to save or not." Buck again explained hurriedly, guilt even more evident, "I got so used to making those kind of decisions out there that I didn’t realize that’s not how it works here back home.”

“Yeah we were so used to having control of every little thing when we were deployed, it takes a while to adjust and accept that some things are just beyondour control.”

“It took you almost no time though. You only got out only a couple of months earlier than I did but you already got yourself squared away, Hondo. What am I doing wrong?”

“What did the commander always tell us when we do training exercises for a mission?” Hondo asked, as the younger SEAL expertly disassembled the rifle before handing it to him.

“Bridge between Goal and accomplishment is discipline,” Buck answered automatically, snatching thee binoculars from the older man letting him take his turn. 

“Exactly.” Hondo nodded as he inspected the rifle, quickly reassembling it and crouching down to set it up to his content.

“It’s hard though," Buck admitted, watching Hondo go through the same ritual Buck did, "I meant like yesterday, I slept with this girl who’s grieving the loss of her little brother.”

“Wait you slept with that county fair victim’s sister?" Hondo asked as he looked out and estimated the downrange and angle of his shot, "The one who dissed you and the entire fire department on the news?”

“Yes believe me that’s not even the worse.” Buck declared as he looked at how his former team leader line up his rifle, "Wait you going for the easy shots?"

"Yes, I'm going for the easy shots, I'm not trying to compete with you kid," Hondo explained. He laid on his belly, looking through the scope as he asked, “So what could worse than sleeping with a grieving woman?”

“I slept with my therapist,” Buck admitted just as Hondo was pulled the trigger, the shock at his declaration almost made the older man miss his target.

“Wait did I hear that right? Your therapist?" the older man asked before firing his second shot. "Like what a masseuse?”

“No not a masseuse. Like a psychiatrist. See after that fiasco at the county fair, I froze up on a scene. Bobby, he basically ordered me to go see a therapist, a mental health clearance of sorts. So I went thinking it’s gonna be a disaster and it was but not in a way that I was thinking it would be.”

“What were you expecting?” Hondo asked, momentarily foregoing the shooting so they could both focus on the conversation.

“That we would talk and she would ask me about my feelings and later on determine I was a lost cause with daddy issues?”

“So what happened?”

“Well we talked or she did, asked me how I feel, she listened to what I had to say and for a second I thought maybe this could work. Then I realized I saw her friend request on FB, next thing I know she was taking off my pants and I was kissing her."

"Who initiated it?"

"We kinda both did," Buck said a little embarrassed. "But that doesn't matter. We had sex. And I felt good. Like really good."

"And then?" Hondo asked knowing that the story doesn't really end there. Or else they wouldn't be here with Buck self-flagellating and obviously feeling guilty.

"And then I got home and I don't know."

"Did you felt used?"

"No, that's not it," Buck tried to deny but it's there's no use. Like Hondo said he practically raised Buck and Stiles, Hondo knows his ticks and tricks. And he knows how to get around them. 

"So she didn't make you feel dirty or used for sex? She didn't coerce you?"

"Um no?" 

"Are you asking or are you telling?"

"Telling. I think." Buck hesitated, trying to reason out, "I mean I didn't say no."

"She's your therapist Buck, you don't have to say no, that should have been implied."

"Maybe I was the one who asked her to have sex with me." Buck tried arguing.

"Tell me what did she tell you after your session?" Hondo pressed, trying a different tactic.

"It shouldn't have happened, I know," Buck tried to deflect, but like always he caved in at Hondo's blank stare. "She said that I should forget about it. And that no one can know about it."

"And you said you went to her for mental health clearance?"

"Yeah, she signed off on it after the session."

"Buck, tell me this did she sign on your clearance before or after she told you to forget it and not tell anyone."

"After," Buck admitted, "But that doesn't mean it wasn't consensual, Hondo."

Hondo looked at him as if he doesn't have a clue on what to do with Buck anymore. “Tell you what, SWAT has our own department psychology, her name is Grace. I'll set you up a schedule with her." 

“I don’t think that’s necessary." Buck shook his head, clearly not liking Hondo's plan at all, "I mean what if I slept with her too?"

“Well I trust her not to sleep with you," Hondo said lightly punching him in the shoulder to lighten the mood, "Trust me you'd like her, she has that game console you like in her office. "

“Oh I trust you, it’s me that I don’t trust." Buck claimed, “I think I might be a sex addict, Hondo.”

“Okay hotshot, how about this I’ll go with you on your session face the wall and have my noise-canceling Beats on," Hondo suggested wanting Buck to try and talk to an actual competent therapist, "Think you can handle not having sex with me in the room and all?”

“Okay,” Buck conceded as he took his turn again. The rest of their time together was spent in companionable silence as they take turns in shooting metal targets, and occasionally sharing teasing jibes at each other's form or technique. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> I know the talk with Hondo didn't totally fix Buck right up, but he'll get there. 
> 
> Sorry the creepy!therapist didn't get the comeuppance she deserves in this fic. I originally intended to write one but I couldn't figure out how to do it. But once I did, I'll write a follow-up to this. For now, this one-shot is done. I'm on to writing the next one-shot in this series, where I'll introduce Mischief...


End file.
